1885, I came to save Greece

Chapter 113 General, you've reached the shore!

Royal Palace Study.

The flames in the fireplace flickered, casting long, thin shadows on the wall.

General Panagiotis stood before his desk, head bowed, not daring to look at the young man sitting opposite him. His crisp general's uniform now felt like a heavy prison garment, suffocating him.

"Your Highness."

He finally spoke, his voice hoarse and dry.

"I... am getting old, and the arduous military service has taken its toll on my body. Lately, I often feel powerless."

He took out a document that he had prepared beforehand from his pocket and handed it over with both hands.

"This is my resignation letter. I respectfully request to resign from my position as head of Army Logistics."

Constantine did not take the resignation letter. He stood up, walked around the desk, and went to Panagiotis.

"General, you are a meritorious official of the nation, in the prime of your life, why do you say such a thing?"

Panaggiotis became even more nervous at this sudden intimacy, and he lowered his head even further.

"Your Highness, I truly feel that my military thinking is no longer keeping up with the times. Rather than occupying this position and becoming an obstacle to the army's progress, it would be better to..." He gritted his teeth and finished speaking, "to step down and serve the country in another position."

"Oh?" Constantine's tone was completely flat. "For example?"

"For example..." Panagiotis mustered his courage, glanced at Constantine, and quickly said, "For example, the 'Royal Defence Advisory Committee' you mentioned earlier. Although I'm no longer good at fighting, I still have decades of experience. I'm willing to contribute my last bit of effort to the committee's preparatory work!"

That was his real purpose for coming tonight.

Constantine stared at him; fine beads of sweat had already formed on the general's forehead.

The room was so quiet that you could hear the crackling of the burning wood in the fireplace.

After a long while, Constantine reached out, but instead of taking the resignation letter, he took Panagiotis's arm.

"General, you are mistaken."

Panagiotis's heart skipped a beat.

"You are not an obstacle," Constantine said, his voice gentle yet firm. "Your noble act of making way for a young person is a model for all Greek officers!"

"I approve your request."

"The position of chairman of the preparatory group for the 'Royal Defence Advisory Council' is perfect for you! I hope you can use your prestige and experience to select the most outstanding advisors for the nation!"

Panagiotis felt as if he had been granted a pardon, and his tense body instantly relaxed. He was about to say something excitedly, but was interrupted by Constantine.

"However, it's not a resignation." Constantine picked up the resignation letter, placed it on the fireplace flames, and watched it turn to ashes. "I will, in the name of the Crown Prince, formally order your 'transfer.' You have served the country, not resigned to avoid responsibility. Your finances will not be investigated by the Bureau of Investigation. Greece never mistreats any meritorious official."

Panagiotis looked at the flickering flames, and his eyes welled up with tears.

He knew he had made the right gamble. The crown prince had given him not only a way out, but also an immense sense of dignity.

The following day, an official announcement from the royal palace was published on the front page of all Athenian newspapers.

Announcement Regarding General Panaggiotis's Appointment as Chairman of the Preparatory Group for the Royal Defence Advisory Council

The announcement praised General Panaggiotis's noble character of "putting the country's interests first and voluntarily stepping down," and emphasized that this was a model of "generational succession and building a strong military together."

This announcement was like a bombshell dropped on the old guard of military officers.

Everyone understood.

This isn't punishment, this is a deal!

Panaggiotis's "decent way out" is the direction the Crown Prince pointed out to all of them: relinquish military power in exchange for a wealthy and leisurely job.

The already crumbling alliance of the old-school generals completely collapsed at this moment.

The power of example is endless.

Over the next three days, the thresholds of the General Staff and the Army were practically worn down by the crowds.

"Report! Inspector General Dimacopoulos, the Commander-in-Chief of Artillery, has submitted his resignation, citing a gout attack that prevents him from inspecting troops on horseback!"

"Report! General Larissas, commander of the 4th Infantry Division, claims he needs to recuperate and wishes to take on a sinecure position within the National Industrial and Defense Development Fund!"

"Report!……"

One after another, generals wielding real power requested to "step down to the second line" for a variety of reasons. Their intentions were self-evident.

General Kolocotronis's fortress was completely destroyed from the inside by his most trusted allies.

A week later.

The routine meeting room of the General Staff of the Army.

The Army General Staff's routine meeting room. Kolokotronis arrived early and sat in his usual spot. Sunlight streamed through the high windows, casting dappled patterns on the massive conference table, dust motes dancing silently in the beams of light. The empty chairs stood like silent tombstones, commemorating a recently deceased alliance. He looked around; the massive conference table was completely empty…

None of the generals who had once followed him closely and obeyed his every command came. Some were ill, some were on "leave of absence," and others had become members of the preparatory groups for "committees" or "foundations."

His face, etched with wrinkles, resembled the peel of a dried orange.

For the first time, he tasted the bitterness of being betrayed and abandoned by everyone. That deep-seated isolation made him feel more powerless than the enemy's artillery fire on the battlefield.

The conference room door was pushed open.

Constantine, dressed in his crisp crown prince uniform, entered surrounded by Metaxas and a group of young officers.

He walked straight to the head seat and sat down, his gaze sweeping across the entire room, but not lingering on Kolokotronis for even a second.

"Gentlemen," Constantine's voice echoed in the empty conference room, "today, we will once again hold a final vote on the Army Modernization Reform Plan."

He didn't say anything unnecessary.

"Those who agree with the plan, please raise your hands."

The voice just fell.

Swish!Swish!Swish!

Arms were raised in the meeting hall. The newly promoted young officers did so without hesitation. The remaining, wavering old-school officers, after exchanging glances, also raised their hands tremblingly.

In an instant, the raised arms in the hall resembled a dense forest.

"I object," Constantine said calmly.

Kolokotronis sat there, motionless. He wanted to raise his hands, to make a final stand, to defend the "honor" he had upheld his entire life.

But he discovered that his arms felt incredibly heavy and he couldn't lift them at all.

He looked around at the faces—some resolute, some evasive, some obsequious. He knew it was all over.

The meeting clerk stood up and announced in a clear voice:

"The Army Modernization Reform Plan has been formally approved by the Supreme Military Commission!"

The moment the sound fell.

Kolokotronis's body swayed violently, as if all the bones in his body had been removed, and he slumped into the chair.

His eyes, once as sharp as an eagle's, were now utterly ashen.

His era, and the old army he represented, were officially declared dead at this moment amidst an overwhelming chorus of "agreement."

Constantine stood up and took the stamped resolution from the clerk.

He turned and handed the document to Metaxas beside him.

"Captain, the future of the Greek Army is in your hands."

After saying that, he walked out of the conference room without looking back at the old man slumped in the chair.

As Constantine disappeared through the door, Kolokotronis's dejected eyes flashed not with hatred, but with a hint of bewilderment and self-mockery. Looking at his hands, calloused from years of holding the reins, he wondered for the first time whether what he had spent his life defending was truly the glory of the Greek army, or merely his own magnificent tomb.

He suddenly recalled the night in his youth, under the moonlight on the Isthmus of Corinth, when he and his father swore an oath before the cross to launch their northern expedition. When did that spirited young man, who took it upon himself to "expel the Turks and restore the glory of Rome," become the corrupt old man he is today, consumed by money and power? The sunlight outside the window was blinding, yet he felt a chill run through his body.

At the other end of the palace, King George I listened to a report from his attendant. He silently turned the ring on his thumb, and after a long while, he whispered, "My son... he's becoming more and more like a true king." The attendant couldn't tell whether his words were more of praise or... more of a warning.